Americans and Gangnam Style
by Uoi
Summary: You can't deny that some songs are catchy. At one point, however, you need to get America and his "Bro Squad" to stop lugging speakers onto your roof and doing the "Horse Dance" while blasting the song at full volume. Or, in which America and his "Bro Squad" decide to aggravate all the other nations in the world by using a very popular song and dance. ONE-SHOT!


It was fair to say that at this point, England had given up on existing.

Sure, he was an amazing empire that the sun never set upon; the very embodiment of the great British empire, but there was one problem with this existence: America.

And a stupid, stupid South Korean dance video/song called, "Gangnam Style" that was abnormally catchy. In England's opinion, it deserved to be burned in the deepest pits of hell.

Not that it was a bad song in of itself, but America…

It had all started when America had arrived at the monthly world meeting ten minutes late, which wasn't a surprise, he was never on time. What was NOT normal was the fact that America had burst in doing a weird dance with South Korea, each holding a speaker blasting Korean music.

"Heeeeeyyy, sexy lady!" America sung horribly, waving the speaker around, South Korea still behind him doing a weird dance. "Oh, hey guys!"

"What are you doing?" France asked, staring at America, who had resumed singing and was now currently dancing his way around the room. "And what sort of a dance is that?"

"AN AWESOME ONE!" America shouted over his speakers, which he had turned up to maximum volume. England could feel the song in his spine, and his eyes started throbbing in the back of his head.

"WOULD YOU SHUT THE BLOODY THING UP?" England roared, pounding his fist on the table. "WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A MEETING HERE!"

"NO!"

"Why, you-"

"HEY, KOREA!" America yelled, waving at the Asian nation. "WHAT'S THE NEXT PART OF THE SONG AGAIN?"

"PSY BEGINS SHOUTING AT A GIRL'S BUTT!" South Korea yelled back, still prancing around the room.

"OH, OKAY!"

Germany, who was still holding his papers, stared at the two nations, mortified. Italy started dancing around the room as well, waving his hands around and singing "Pasta, pasta pasta~" China, on the other hand, had stood up and was now chasing South Korea around the room, yelling at him and trying to get him to shut up.

"DISHONOR ON YOU!" China shouted, smacking South Korea on the head. "DISHONOR ON YOU, DISHONOR ON YOUR FAMILY, DISHONOR ON YOUR COW, I CERTAINLY DIDN'T RAISE YOU THIS WAY! SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN!"

"NO!" South Korea responded, and continued doing the dance step around the room, whipping a pair of sunglasses onto his face.

America was on the other side of the room, crouched down and staring at Hungary's butt.

"HEEEY, HUNGARY, YOU HAVE A NICE-," began America but was cut off abruptly when Hungary whipped her frying pan out of nowhere and started beating America with it intensely, cursing.

"You- Stupid- Complete- Idiot- Don't- Stare- At- My- BUTT!" Hungary roared, smashing her frying pan onto America's face.

"It was part of the music video, I'm sorry-" America croaked, but at this point, it really didn't matter. Hungary was mad. And when Hungary was mad at you, you were going to die.

"Hungary!" Austria shouted, attempting to restrain her. "Calm down, please!"

At one point, Hungary missed America's face and shattered the speaker, lessening the din in the room. South Korea screamed.

"NO!" he shouted, bolting to the remains of the speaker. "That was vintage K-Pop!"

"DO YOU THINK I CARE IF IT WAS VINTAGE?" Hungary shouted, raising her frying pan in his direction.

The meeting was officially concluded when Hungary knocked both America and South Korea out with a frying pan, and they were immediately sent to the emergency room. Hungary herself was given five minutes in a room full of fully breakable objects to calm down. She calmed down by smashing everything.

"Why do all of our meetings always end like this?" Germany sighed over a large beer. "Honestly, we spend 35% of our budget repaying hotels."

"Well, you can blame America for this one," England said, setting down his own glass. "And the hospital bill needs to be paid too. Also, Austria wants a reimbursement for the damage done to his tuxedo, and South Korea wants Hungary to repay him for the damage done to the speaker, China wants him to get a 'time-out.' Also-"

England was cut off abruptly when Germany groaned loudly and placed his head in between his hands, muttering something about "imbeciles" and "I would like to have ten more beers, please."

"Well, I do think that's the end of this 'Gangnam Style,' at least," England said, patting Germany on the back. "Just think happy thoughts."

* * *

Waking up in the morning to the sound of loud THUMPS on your roof is never a good way to wake up, especially if you're hungover and all you want to do is sleep and try to forget the disastrous World Meeting that you had the night before.

But noo, England just had to wake up and find the ceiling shaking dangerously, a large crowd outside his window and somebody blasting really, really loud music that he could feel behind his eyes.

The first thing he did was dive underneath his bed, quite sure that an earthquake was here and that he was about to die. Then he realized that only the roof was shaking, frowned, got out from under his bed and glared at the ceiling.

What in the world was going on?

Bleary-eyed and terribly annoyed, England threw on some random clothes from his closet, (he really didn't care at this point) marched outside, and nearly died by tripping over an insanely thick extension cord placed right outside his door.

To quote this moment: "Bloody idiots… It's too early for this, what in the- WHOA! Oh, God, that was close- WAIT WHAT THE HELLLLLLLLLLL…"

England tripped, stumbled a few feet forward, realized that he was dangerously close to his stairs, fell down the stairs, and ended up landing in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, cursing heavily and rubbing his behind gingerly.

Where did that extension cord even come from?

Deciding to do a bit of investigating, he walked slowly and carefully back up his stairs. The cord was plugged into an outlet on the side of his wall, crossed his doorway, snaked upwards, there was a hole in his ceiling and he could see outside-

THERE WAS A HOLE IN HIS CEILING AND HE COULD SEE OUTSIDE.

Also, the extension cord passed through that very hole. England stared, completely baffled until the music started up again. Only this time, he could hear what it was.

A ridiculously catchy pop beat… America yelling at the top of his lungs… Korean singing… the ceiling was shaking again...

A CATCHY POP BEAT, AMERICA YELLING, AND KOREAN SINGING.

Oh, god.

England raced back down the stairs, unlocked the door as quickly as he could, and proceeded to join the growing crowd gathered outside of his London condo, trying to figure out why there were so many people and why everyone had their phones out.

The music was so loud! Would it kill them to turn it down? They were on his roof, after all…

They were on his roof.

England whipped around to face his apartment and decided that he wanted to die, right here, right now, just to be able to avoid the humiliation that was seeing this.

They had lugged three full-size speakers and a microphone on his roof somehow. Also, they had managed to climb up the building and start dancing that "horse dance" thingy to the music itself. They had also dressed up in tuxedos and were now proceeding to dance in circles on his roof.

"They" being Prussia, Spain, France, South Korea, and America.

Why did he have to put up with this? After all his years of living, after he had done so much, this is what he was rewarded with? Four stupid, STUPID nations dancing the "Gangnam Style" on his roof and blasting the music so loudly it was a wonder all these people hadn't gone deaf yet.

Prussia was doing an air guitar and clomping around his roof, clearly not knowing what he was doing. Spain and France were the only ones trying. South Korea was doing the dance absentmindedly and was more interested in waving to the people down below. America was shouting very American things into a microphone and attempting to sing along, though he was just yelling gibberish into a microphone sometimes interrupted by "Freedom!" and "America!".

England spent five hours at the police station trying to convince the policeman that no, he never allowed them to dance on his roof in the first place, and yes, he did want them off.

Now the crowd was even larger than ever, and England was quite sure that this was going to become an internet phenomenon. All the more reason to get them off the roof. There was a problem with this strategy, as he would later regret.

First off, the moment America saw police heading his way, he grabbed his cell, dialed a few numbers, and spoke into it, though nobody could hear what he was saying over the music. Also, the crowd was just so thick and people were actually attempting to dance, so he couldn't get through.

England's list of things that are terribly wrong with this situation:

1\. Idiots are dancing on my roof

2\. There is a hole in my roof

3\. There are tons of people watching and recording the idiots dancing on my roof

4\. Idiots lugged three speakers and a microphone onto my roof

5\. The police refuse to believe that I didn't let idiots dance on my roof

6\. Idiots landed a helicopter on my roof

Where did the HELICOPTER come from? And why a helicopter, of all things?

England stared in horrified awe as the helicopter landed neatly on his roof, the policemen next to him calling frantically into their radios. America, France, Spain, and South Korea boarded, although America bolted back outside right after he stepped in to haul his speakers and microphone into the copter.

Why was the thing so HUGE? And honestly, who was flying it?

And WHY, OUT OF ALL THE ROOFS IN LONDON, DID THEY HAVE TO CHOOSE HIS?

Oh, he was so going to strangle all of them later…

* * *

Unfortunately, this "Gangnam Style" only gained more popularity, and America became ten times more obsessed with it.

Before the next world meeting, unbeknownst to anyone, America strolled into the room four hours beforehand, removed a ceiling tile, set his ringtone to full volume, placed his phone inside the roof, connected a few cords, and replaced the tile, grinning.

When the meeting officially started, (Germany and England both shooting America annoyed looks) before anyone even said anything, America grinned and said: "I lost my phone."

"Good," England said, shuffling his papers. "Maybe you'll actually spend time offline for once."

"I did!" America chirped. "Remember when the bros and I were dancing on your roof? Man, that was fun-"

"What do you even want, America?" England roared, slamming his fist onto the table. "We're in the middle of a meeting here, in case your tiny, insignificant brain can't comprehend that-"

"I lost my phone," America said, a 1000-watt grin still on his face.

"So what do you even want me to do about it?" England asked, massaging his temples.

"Call it."

England froze. "What?"

"Call my cellphone."

"Why?" England asked, frowning.

"Because I lost my cellphone," America said once more, and his grin grew even wider.

"You are planning something weird, yes?" Russia cut in, looking at America with interest. "Will it involve that awful song that everyone likes very much? If it does, I won't be very happy, you know."

Trembling slightly, America waved Russia off. "Don't worry. Anyway, could one of you guys call my cell? I really need it so I can rewatch that youtube video-"

"FINE!" Germany yelled. "Could somebody just please call America's cellphone?"

"Oh, sure," Prussia piped up, smirking. "Here- bro, just dial in your number," he said, handing his cellphone to America. "And press the green button- okay."

The whole room waited in silence for about three seconds until the chaos started.

 _Beep… Beep… Beep…_

"OPPA GANGNAM STYLE!"

England whirled around and glared at America, as did Germany, Russia, and China.

"WHAT. THE. HELL." England said, clenching a fist tightly and restraining the urge to punch America. "You little-"

But America and his "Bro Squad" had already climbed up onto the table and were now doing the dance that England had come to hate with a firey passion, each one wearing sunglasses. The music was even louder now- What was he doing? And why was the music still going?

England scanned the room until he found the four speakers installed on the walls- America must have connected his phone to them.

But it was too late now. Italy had clamored up and joined them on the table, as did Poland, and the rest of the nations were running around in confusion, even Germany was forced to start dancing because of Italy. The music was way too loud now. He could feel it in his stomach, and that was never a good sign.

England didn't know which was worse: The fact that America had now officially started a flash mob in the meeting room or the fact that this STUPID, STUPID song was now playing and was starting to get stuck inside his head again.

Probably the flash mob. Italy's dancing was insanely hazardous, and he nearly kicked America off the table. What Italy was doing couldn't be even remotely classified as "dancing," he was simply flailing his legs all over the place.

Also, Latvia was running around the room crashing into the walls, and Denmark was huddled in a corner, sobbing. That was never good. China seemed to want to jump out of the window.

It was fair to say that at this point, none of the nations had any sanity left and all of them wanted to kick America and his "Bro Squad."

So in the end, Germany did get to punch America, Hungary took out her own wrath on the speakers, Austria screamed hysterically when the piano was broken by a falling speaker and demanded that America replace it, and England wanted to go home.

It was fair to say that all world meetings afterward were canceled because of America and his "Bro Squad." Apparently they had nearly gotten arrested after they had interrupted a presidential meeting by blasting the song and parading through the doors dancing.

* * *

Eventually the craze did die down, though America's ringtone remained, and all the nations (excluding the "Bro Squad") would glare insistently at America whenever his phone rang. America would merely shrug and dance along, causing him to be smacked in the head by Russia, which always stopped him in the end.

At least it was over.

England sat in his living room, sipping his tea and reading a book under a massive amount of blankets, it was rather cold today and he was glad that the day was coming to a close.

That is, until America burst into his house blasting music with his "Bro Squad," all of them dancing crazily and shaking their butts everywhere. England stared at them all, wondering how they got into his house and why they had such an obsession with butts.

"BUTTSSS, BUTTS BUTTS BUTTS BUTTS BUUUUUUTTSSSS!" sang America as he paraded around England living room, the latter horribly scarred for life.

And so began the butt craze.

* * *

 **A/N: I actually have no idea. I literally have no idea. I wrote this at three in the morning and I have no idea what I was doing. Well, I hope you enjoyed this... story of some sort and that all of you have a great holiday.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading! Reviews are loved and critique is awesome.**


End file.
